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“Ohhh, tell me more. Who with? I know, I know. The hunky cop from your past. Am I right? I’m right, aren’t I? Woot, woot. Andi’s got a date with someone other than the stick-up-his-butt Richard.”
“Would you stop it?” I pulled to a stop in my drive and laughed. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s not a romantic hookup. I’m sure Zack just wants to talk about Lillian’s house and stuff.”
My sister hooted with laughter. “I wish I could see your face right now. I bet you’re flushed with little drops of sweat on your brow.”
“Screw you.” I dabbed at the brow sweat. “You don’t know everything.”
“Girl, I know when you’re lying, so give it up.”
“Fine. We’re having dinner. Are you happy?”
“Ecstatic. What are you making?”
“I’m not making dinner. He is.”
“Way to keep him in line,” Dee said, her tone admiring.
“So, what did you want to talk to me about? I have an hour or so.”
“Not on the phone. Lunch, tomorrow?”
“Sure. Sounds great. Want to meet at Island Salad House around eleven?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
Once my sister was off the line, I pulled my Benz around to the rear garage and parked. “Mighty mysterious, right?”
Baxter yipped.
“Yeah, that’s what I think, too.”
I settled on jeans and a white Oxford shirt. I debated shoes versus sandals versus barefoot because, you know, it was my house and tonight wasn’t a big deal. I settled on slide-on sandals that could be dumped easily.
Promptly at seven, my doorbell rang. Baxter leapt up from where he was sleeping in my blue wingback chair—telling him to stay off my furniture was a waste of breath—and flew toward the door, barking the entire way. I rolled her eyes, but I couldn’t contain the grin on my face as I followed the fierce defender of my home to the door.
I opened the door and smiled. Zack held an enormous brown paper bag in one hand and two bottles of wine in the other.
“Who needs a doorbell with Baxter around?” he said.
Mouth-watering aromas of Italian food drifted from the bag. My stomach growled its compliments to the chef.
“Hungry?” he asked with a grin.
I laughed with a shake of my head and took the wine. “Let me help. It smells delicious. DeLuca’s?”
“Of course. Only the best.”
I tilted my head toward the rear of my house. “Inside or outside?”
“Inside, and I want the grand tour. Just seeing your place is giving me tons of ideas for mine.”
I headed into the dining room. “This work?”
“Naw. Too formal. I bet you have a great little area in your kitchen.”
With an eye roll, I led him to my kitchen and its cozy eating nook.
“See? I just knew you had something like this,” he said.
